Abduction
by Caelta
Summary: Zim is at Dib's mercy strapped to a table in the Membrane's basement, but the experimentation does not end at scientific discoveries. Dib soon realizes the true nature of his feelings for Zim, and confusion ensues after the alien is released.


A/N: Hello all! This plot bunny refused to let go after a week long of watching the Invader Zim episodes, so this little drabble is what came out of it. I hope you guys like it. :] On another note, I do know that I spelled "school" wrong; I spelled it the way I did for continuity purposes because it is spelled the same way in the cartoon. Believe me, it was painful to do it. Furthermore, for those who miraculously still remember my other story 'Past Reflection Passed Direction,' I will be continuing it - this was just a short side project. I'm almost done with chapter 13, I promise! Also, reviews are love. Feel free to click the lovely little button in the lower left hand corner of your screen to do so. -nudgenudge-

Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, nor do I pretend to. The rights to all references to the main plot and characters are strictly belonging to Jhonen Vasquez/Nickelodeon.

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As things usually went, very few of their zealous plots made it anywhere past a complete failure. There was always that one frustrating little thing that all of the flashing neon signs of complete and utter failure – once again – stemmed off of, be it a simple ridiculous mistake resulting from impatience and the inability to think things through to a logical conclusion, or an outside intervention. There was always that sense of hopeless, undeniable deficiency, and the fervency placed in yet another promise of overtaking the forces of inadequacy in the next go-round. Inevitably, this left them both stranded on the thin line of an interminable stalemate, balancing precariously and holding onto each other in order not to fall, though they each looked down upon the ground in longing.

This time, however, this was not the case.

There was a variety of factors that could attribute to this differentiation in routine, but Zim was too busy concentrating on the solution rather than the cause. Perhaps if he'd not spent that extra fifteen minutes trying to digest whatever it was that Gir had concocted for him, or if he'd ignored the food altogether, then he might have avoided the sudden rain. If he had avoided the rain, he might not have been forced to stand under the awning of a nearby shop in wait for the sky to cease its torrents. If he'd not been forced to wait, he might have gotten to school in time to see his class leaving the facility, and might not have allowed Dib enough time to construct his plan. Instead, all because he'd chosen to waste time eating breakfast, he was now lying strapped to a table in a room full of white.

He had to admit it was one of his adversary's better ideas. Even in its simplicity – maybe even because of it – it was ingenious. Of course, he would never admit such a thing to Dib. Admiring one's rival was usually what harbored the resentment, but in this sense, their rivalry was one that was above all others. It surpassed hate to be evolved into a sort of co-existence. One could not survive without the other, just as short and long both contradicted and depended on one another.

It was a perfect balance.

Though he would have thought that such ridiculousness as life-sized inflatables would not hinder him in the slightest, Zim was forced to concede that he may not be so familiar with the human race as he thought. He would have surely seen the difference given time, but time was limited by the Dib who sprang on him from behind and stabbed a syringe into his arm.

Since then, Zim knew what it was to sleep. He could not make sense from the images pouring into him, and it became increasingly difficult to tell dream and reality apart. When everything was dimmed under a thick haze, the only sharp reality present in his mind was that he had failed to provide himself ample opportunity to meet his challenger in strength, he had failed to provide his challenger with a sufficient challenge, and he would certainly retaliate with an even better development.

He drifted in and out of focus on the same hard table to the point where sleeping and waking carried no difference, and time seemed utterly irrelevant. For all he knew, he might have spent decades in this same state, but he needn't have cared. If Dib had not killed him yet, then his death was highly unlikely. After all, his death would tip the balance.

It seemed extremely farcical that things would be going as well as they were. Somehow, he'd finally succeeded in capturing Zim for his own purposes. Though the glory of such a triumph was diminished by the fact that he had no one to gloat at, Dib was just as satisfied to wait until after the initial test results before he bothered with egocentrics. Harboring an alien in one's basement was a difficult business, after all.

There was, of course, a down side. It took more than just one night to conduct research, and he couldn't very well just let Zim go off to school as usual. Thus, after a few short days and many nervous glances, they finally started to ask questions. It was not that they felt concerned in any way or that they thought he was by any means close to the alien, but perverse human nature led them to inquire – and he was the natural suspect of having any knowledge concerning Zim's whereabouts.

The best he could give them were a few shrugs and "maybe he's sick"s. They couldn't know – not yet. They wouldn't believe him now, anyway – not until there was proof. Informing his classmates of the fact that Zim was currently strapped to a table in his basement and being experimented on would only provoke their usual jesting, and he would rather wait until he could prove not only to them, but to the entire world that aliens truly did exist – and that Zim was one of them. They would know in time, and what a glorious time it would be.

No longer would he be the class dunce. No longer would he be disregarded by his father, or threatened by his sister. When his research was done, they would all learn of just how far their ignorance was, and they would see how great of a savior he had been. No longer would his rescuing Earth be in vain.

The first week of skool knowing that he would come home to an alien was very difficult to keep up with the work assigned to him by Mrs. Bitters. He was constantly spacing-out in thought of what he might do to Zim next, and even the occasional eraser or paper-ball catapulted into his head from behind didn't bother him. This ran the risk of acquiring him clean-up duty for his not listening, and this was something he didn't think he could bear – staying after for even a couple of minutes more than necessary.

Somehow, Mrs. Bitters managed to become even more boring than usual.

The first day he was assigned clean-up duty, he had come home in a very foul mood indeed. He had stomped straight to his basement, slammed the door, slung down his bookbag, and shoved his fingers into a pair of latex gloves with the intent of doing some very painful things to the alien.

"You're late," accused Zim with a half-lidded glare. "What's your pathetic human excuse for being so late today, Dib-thing? How long do you expect you can keep the almighty Zim trapped down here like some worthless Earthling pest?! I am no mere animal that can be experimented on in such ways! I am Zim, do you hear me?!"

"Shut up, _Zim_, or I'm going to inject you with more sedatives." He said this as he rifled through the pile of things on the counter – including the means of contacting Gir he'd forcibly removed from the alien along with his wig-and-contacts disguise. Zim did as he was told, probably due to the fact that he was still too tired to argue and would rather accept his momentary fate more than being persuaded by Dib's threat.

"So, what shall I inflict upon you today, Zim?" he taunted. It was more for effect than anything, seeing as his research hadn't gotten to the stage of inflicting _anything_ yet. Zim only glared at him from across the room, more likely than not knowing this just as well as he. "How about an X-ray?"

As harmless as it sounded, they both knew the implications. X-rays worked best without the diffractions of clothing, and though hospitals usually provided flimsy white gowns as substitution, Dib had no hospital gowns. His biggest worry was whether or not an X-ray wouldn't just be diffracted by Zim's foreign skin, but he supposed that trying wouldn't hurt anyone.

The next problem came naturally from how to go about the process of stripping Zim of his alien clothing. Potentially, he could learn a lot, but potentially, it could be a very uncomfortable situation.

It was hard to resist anything whilst being trapped on the same table in the same room for days on end. He wished that the human would at least give him the privilege of free movement, but he supposed that there was probably no viable reason for his deserving this sort of trust. It seemed a brighter idea to simply secure the notion that he wouldn't escape through other means besides hard tables, but there was also no reason for Dib to be concerned with Zim's comfort. This much was almost entirely apparent after the X-ray incident.

Zim also maintained the idea that he learned just as much as Dib from just lying in one place all day. Being in the Membrane household entertained the possibility of learning as much of humans as Dib learned of Irkens. Most of the time, his learnings were centered on acute observations, such as the human tendency to argue and contradict themselves. Dib was a fine example of one who was in constant conflict with his sister, and the selfish nature portrayed in all of them was something that sparked a curiosity in the alien.

He could have escaped at any time, if he so chose to do so. Before he left, however, he decided it was best to do a little information gathering.

The most interesting of human emotions was to him the concept of loneliness. He didn't understand it. The more mundane of sensations he could feel as well as any human, such as anger or humor, but the more complex things such as sorrow, love, and loneliness had him at a complete loss. His more memorable experience with the concept of loneliness came from Dib himself.

He'd just started thinking that perhaps a can of soda wouldn't do him any harm when the human had entered the door on the far side of the room with an audible grunt of frustration, slamming the door shut on the face of his father.

"Go away, Dad!" he bellowed, clicking the lock into place. Something took over his expression that Zim could not understand nor perceive from him distance, and a strange noise was barely audible through his clenched teeth.

"Dib, my son, it's your mother's birthday! Even Gaz celebrates the day! What is the meaning of this?" Professor Membrane's voice was muffled behind the thick door, but the alien could make out the confusion that layered his tone as he strained to be heard.

"Mom's dead, Dad! Get over it and stop pretending! You don't even care what I'm doing down here!" Dib kicked at the door with a small, pained noise as the professor outside sighed heavily. Zim could hear him breathing outside the room a few moments longer before footsteps marked his departure, and Dib leaned exhaustedly against the door as he shut his eyes and put his hands to his face.

The human made a few undistinguishable noises as he sunk to the floor and out of Zim's line of vision, but he could hear the strange, wet sounds become louder. After an interval, they stopped enough for Dib to stand again, but by this time Zim was becoming increasingly frustrated with himself for not being able to discern what this foreign noise meant.

It was when Dib came closer to him, walking unsteadily and wiping at the odd streaks running down his face, that the alien recognized the sentiment. At first, he was too awed to make use of his vocals in the presence of Dib's sobbing. Then, after the human approached him and the salted fluid dripped down onto his neck, he was never so bold in voicing his opinion. Quite loudly, he protested the liquid's fiery smoldering against his searing skin.

Dib jumped away from him, mumbling some sort of curt apology before he dropped to his knees and set the foremost part of his head against the table at Zim's side. A shudder ran through him, and the alien tried his best to cringe away from the liquid fire pouring from the eyes of his nemesis.

"Is this a sign of weakness, Dib-worm?! Have you launched yourself into the claws of your doom, you human stink?! What is this incomprehensible fiery _thing_ you bring before the mighty Zim?! Take it away; it burns!" He might have continued, but Dib cut him short by slamming a fist down somewhere close to his left eye.

"Shut up, Zim! I said I was sorry! Or does that not satisfy the 'almighty Zim' who is currently chained to a table at my mercy?" He said this through a clenched jaw, breathing hard and fast through his teeth. Somehow, his anger and sorrow combined only proved to further Zim's confidence. His voice wavered on his words, drawing attention to the fluid swimming in his gaze.

"_Do_ not think you are the only one capable of methodical science, water-bag! Observations are everything – _everything_! What is this precipitation you excrete from your eyes, you filthy waste of DNA?! IS this an attack on _Zim_?! Dare you attempt to take advantage of my position, _Dib_?!" Leaning up against his binds, the alien snarled into the wet face of the boy at his side. Naturally, he was well aware of the fact that Dib was in tears; he wanted to see how far Dib was willing to go if pressed for an explanation. The foremost reason for prompting such an explanation was, not unusually, to determine just _what_ had put the human in such distress.

Dib, however, had other things in mind. Sniffling into the alien's face, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and stood. When he walked to the edge of the counter, he returned with a long-needled syringe that he threatened to shove through Zim's arm if he didn't stop talking.

"Yes, Zim," he said brutally. "I'm _crying_ – because I'm _sad_. I'm sure that connection is too complex for you to make, but that's why I made it for you. While you're still alive, I might as well bore you with the details of my life. I'm _sad_ because I'm _frustrated_. Because I'm _frustrated _–"

"Zim knows the meaning of the English vocabulary, Dib-worm! Leave your frivolous explanations for those who do not have such superior Irken intellects, and reveal the crux of the matter!"

Dib looked at him a little longer through his magnified glare, and then sighed. As he sighed, he thrust the syringe back onto the counter and came to stand over Zim. He looked ready to kill if not for the wet glaze over the look he was giving the alien, and Zim met this glare with one of his own.

"The crux of the matter…" repeated the human darkly. He sent a final glance to the Irken before he started to pace, glowering down at the white-tiled floor. "The crux of the matter, _Zim_, is that Earth isn't worth saving. But I'm going to save it anyway. Everyone on this entire planet is absolutely useless! All anyone ever cares about is themselves! …but I'm still going to save them, so I can face their shame, so they can go on living in their diluted society."

The first question that came to mind was _why_, but it was not the first thing that presented itself from his vocals.

"So you finally noticed," he boasted instead. The receiving glare was what forced him to proceed. "Your entire race is a filthy bunch of monkeys, Dib-worm. Zim is surprised you have the capacity to compete with his almighty Irken intellect!"

It was really a backwards compliment, though he made it out to be an insult. Dib was the _only_ human capable of competing with and even – on occasion – outdoing Zim. As far as Zim was concerned, Dib was by far the best asset and the key to all the human race. This was why winning against the human in their petty competitions meant so much more; taking over Dib meant taking over Earth. He was the only human Zim was willing to set his full arsenal of creative plots against – he was the only one who was worthy, and the only one who understood.

Dib, despite the fact that he had been praised, did not take well to being made out as inferior. His pride was the sole reasoning behind why he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in a defensive posture. "Your almighty analects had definitely helped you in your escape. Oh, wait – you're still strapped to a table in my basement. Sorry about that." His sarcasm was less than flattering, and he sent Zim a smug look as he searched for and held up a bowl-shaped contraption. "Today, we're going to look at all your memories. How's that sound?"

He couldn't believe it. Looking over his charts, there was nothing left. Had he really done everything? He'd tested so much: chemical composition of the body, anatomy including skeletal structure, rate of respiration, heart rate – if that _thing_ could be called a heart, evidence of evolution, brain usage and content, and all examinable patterns. _Everything_. There was nothing left. Was his research over? What felt like days had been months.

Zim had become a formal part of his life. He had been before the research, as well, but now he seemed more than a rival. The arguments were refreshing. They were what he held onto – what he relished. It was usual for him to come home and go straight to the basement separate from his father's, for Zim to provide some means of conversation when no one had said a word to him all day, and for the alien even to aid him with homework if he was brave enough to ask the question.

There was no doubt that he would send everything he'd found and more to the news network, and that he'd do everything he could to reveal Zim for what he was. He did not hesitate to want to do these things – only in actually doing them. He found himself making up excuses, and coming up with bogus experiments. If this was what Zim had really become to him, then he was loathe to admit it. It terrified him that the world suddenly meant less to him, that he could come up with reasons to save it less and less frequently, and it confused him. Somehow, he was almost sure that Zim knew that his newfound efforts to experiment were false, and that he was stalling. Why this didn't bother the alien was beyond him, as much as it was a mystery of why he was even trying to preserve time to begin with.

Gaz had found out, naturally, through her snooping into why he was sleeping in the basement so frequently. She could care less what he did to Zim, and even held some sick interest in a few of the more torturous applications. Therefore, she did not bother him as much as expected. She did, to his thorough dislike, have her own theories on his behavior, and she had no sense of prudence or modesty in announcing them in Zim's presence.

"You like him," she'd told him one day, staring threateningly up from her handheld game. However much he'd denied it, she would not listen. At first, he'd thought she meant "like" in an impersonal sense, just as one might "like" their neighbors. He soon proved this theory to have a fair amount more depth than he'd given his sister credit for when he debated her on it for the umpteenth occasion. Impersonal, he'd found, had nothing to do with it.

"You're a homo," she'd matter-of-factly. This seemed to be quite the joke, but as soon as Zim was finished erupting with cackles, Dib defended himself in his rising indignation. This, though he'd given her all sorts of incentive to go elsewhere and not to continue, did no good against her fierce way of putting things.

"Homosexual," Gaz droned, acting like it was common knowledge she'd known for years. "You like guys. You're gay."

There was only so many ways she could say it before she began to sound redundant, and before he started to simply abandon his ire and give up. It was then that he really started to wonder on the matter. Was there a way to test it: to prove her wrong? He couldn't think of anything that didn't put him in an uncomfortable circumstance. When he'd asked her to explain herself, she never did give him much of an answer past a shrug.

Was she implying that he_ liked_ Zim?

He'd be a fool not to notice that she was. Though he resented it, the subject caused him much grief. Things he wouldn't even have imagined being worrisome were suddenly worthy of making his palms sweat. It made him notice things he'd rather not. Such as: if he'd considered it awkward to view Zim's nudity in all its glory _before_, then he certainly hadn't known the meaning of the word.

Even a simple glance or wayward touch would have him on-edge, and he cursed Gaz for ever bringing it up. It had made him paranoid about himself beyond all belief, over-analyzing every reaction to the point that just a small glance from the alien would have him stomping a foot on the ground and demanding what he wanted. Was that a rush he felt just then, when Zim's hand brushed his? Was that his heart speeding up? Did that make him gay? Did he like Zim like that? Was that look Zim gave him supposed to mean something? Did Zim _know_?!

"Dib." The alien said it quietly, slowly – waiting patiently for a response. Pretending not to hear, he continued on with his homework until the Irken repeated himself. "Dib."

He snapped. "What? _What_?! Is it the rash?! I have a face rash! Is it your hearing?! My heart beats slower than yours does! Go talk to Gaz! I'm sure she'll tell you all sorts of interesting facts! It isn't even color! You're _green_!"

Zim stared at him for a moment, looking past the homework to frown. His eyes narrowed in the semblance of a question, but he never asked it. "Zim was telling you, Dib-thing," he said instead, "that you forgot to add forty-three onto your answer."

"Oh." The mistake was obvious – Dib added the sum and changed his answer in a hasty fashion. It may not have been the most inconspicuous behavior, but he couldn't help it. Gaz's theory had upset him, though he was set fiercely on ignoring it, and it had sprouted in his mind a troublesome question. What if she was right?

Being strapped to a table was not the most comfortable position, it was true, but she posed him with a decision that almost felt as if it wasn't his to make. Hovering over him with a key on her finger, Gaz stared him in the face and insisted on setting him free. He might have thought it to be some cruel joke if he hadn't known that Gaz wasn't one to make jokes. She stood with her arms crossed, and he had no room to question her motivation when she was apt to change her mind.

The alien was halfway out the door before he found that he had lost all interest in escape; he realized this when he discovered himself plotting how to get back into Dib's home once he'd left. It was for observation purposes, of course. The more he learned of the human kind, the better. Dib, however, was unique.

In a way, he was fascinated. The boy was barely old enough to have scratched the surface of time, and yet he was centuries older. Zim refused to believe that it was in fact the other way around from his perspective: that perhaps it took Irkens centuries to mature. He, after all, was the superior being. It was amazing nonetheless that something so insignificant – as young as the Earth-stink was – could create such an impact. This boy alone stood up to defend his race and his planet, knowing full well that he was no match for the armada once Zim had made the necessary preparations. He was a lone hope, and the alien itched to take him apart like he might one of his machines – to examine him and determine what were his motives, thoughts, and tendencies.

As long as he stood there debating whether or not to go, Dib eventually showed up and quickly thwarted his almost-escape attempt. Coming down the stairs with a stack of textbooks, the human saw him and immediately dropped his quarry. It only took a moment for him to come to terms with the fact that he'd dropped it on his foot; he shouted a curse at Zim as he attempted to hop down the staircase on one foot.

"Hey! Where are you going?! How'd you get up here?! Don't you dare, Zim!" He seemed fairly adamant about his threat; he held up his fists as if his puny strength were any match. The Irken almost laughed, but held his tongue in the absence of this very threat. Dib was not worth hurting.

"You're coming back whether you like it or not," the Earth-stink said in an undertone. Was that desperation he detected? "This time, I'm removing your pak."

He came willingly enough; he was only wary of Dib's last statement. Not being able to survive very long without it, he was made uneasy by the human's intentions. However harmless they might have been, Zim couldn't help but remember the last time his pak had been removed.

It was hard to trust one's enemy with one's very life supply, if one could help it. He bit back a few remarks as the Dib-worm began to finger the device on his back, hoping to pry it off. It didn't get the human very far, even with all of his tugging and straining, until Zim decided he'd finally release the pak. The human quickly backed off when he did this, fearing his being slung into a wall by the looks of his readied stance.

"Hurry up, _Dib_," he spat, placing his life at his rival's feet. The earthling looked delighted to finally have another chance to even lay hands on – let along examine – such a significant article. He had to admit that it was almost worthwhile to see the look on Dib's face – so long as the water-sac didn't kill him.

Five minutes ticked by. He could literally feel the energy draining out of him, as his motor skills deteriorated and his vision became less defined. Glancing listlessly to Dib to note his progress, he took notice of the concentration etched onto the human's pale face. His glasses slipped down his nose as he worked, continually doing so even after he shoved them carelessly back up his face.

The motivation trickling out of him left him something close to numb, and he wondered now why he agreed to follow Dib back down here. Watching as the human jotted something down on a sheet of paper, he knew that he was very liable to die. It wasn't like the worm had any reason to keep him alive; he seemed to have finished most of his research already. After that, the only thing left might have been an autopsy: something he wasn't required to be alive for. Dib had said nothing reassuring so far about sparing his life, and so he might as well sit back and wait to die.

Zim might have been in panic – he had too many things left to do to die _here_ – if he had been capable of it. Most of his thoughts were consisted of a dull wonder in his given state, not quite accepting his fate but having no means to deny it. The Earth-stink worked to patiently for his liking, and he didn't' know how much longer he could last. How long had it been? Seven minutes? Nine? _Ten_?

Hadn't he told that incompetent waste of matter to _hurry up_?!

"You alright over there, Zim?" Dib turned to glance over him, some sense of empowerment having given him the impression that he was able to sound so condescending. The sense of indignation made his insides churn, but there was virtually nothing he could do for it except attempt to shake his head.

"No, Dib-worm, Zim is not _alright_! Your foolish, human experiments are endangering his existence! You will halt your insolent proceedings this very moment, and give Zim back what is his! You are too ignorant to understand the complex structure of a being far superior to you!"

The human smirked, sliding his glasses back up his nose and coming to stand before the table to which Zim was strapped. "The only complex structure here is your superiority complex, Zim. Relax – it's only been a few minutes. How do you feel?"

How did he _feel_?! His life was at stake, and this inept example of a species of rudimentary intelligence was asking_ how he felt_?! It was ludicrous. The very idea had his sqeedilyspooch tightening, and he ground his teeth at the concept. "A few minutes" could cost him his life.

It hit him as soon as he opened his mouth that Dib was not asking about his health for conversational purposes. His ailments would only add to the human's observations on his pitiful experiment, and Zim sneered. His own pain and suffering was nothing but words that would be scribbled down on some sort of organization of data and given to some network to prove his existence. Invariably, no human would believe Dib even if he stuck the proof right in their face, but that was no concern of Zim's. His life meant nothing but collected information and substantiation to Dib, and even less to anyone else. How wrong he had been in his overall assumption of mutual balance; ultimately, Dib didn't care.

In a way, it stung, but he attested this to his being in the wrong concerning his position with Dib and not the position itself. He glowered up at the human, now, his insides casting a foreign feeling about his tingling limbs. Was this death?

Oh, that inimical, reprehensible, menial _fiend_! Swearing by the Tallest, if he was to die then Dib was going with him.

"It's a simple question, Zim," the human articulated. "You're still able to answer me, aren't you? Can you hear me? It hasn't been _that_ long."

He bared his teeth in a feral display of enmity, scoffing at the Earth-stink. Irk _forbid_ he got incorrect data. "Zim hears you, Dib-thing. How do you _think_ I feel? My head is aching, my spine is pulsing agony, and I can barely move. Are you happy, filthy _human_?"

"Not really. How's your vision?" Dib continued to move his pencil across the page in a professional motion.

"Blurry."

He gave a thoughtful nod. "Uhuh…how good can you hear me?"

"Barely. You aren't talking loud enough, Dib-stink."

"I see." He looked up from his notes and gave Zim a critical eye. Reaching out a hesitant hand, he placed the back of it against the alien's cheek. "Can you feel this?"

"Yes," Zim growled through his teeth. He could also feel how hot the human's skin was, compared with his own.

"Alright. How about this?" The human moved his touch to Zim's arm, trailing his tepid fingers down to his palm. Zim nodded reluctantly.

Dib proceeded to continue this little game, telling the alien to say when he couldn't feel something, and prodded him all the way down to his feet using the end of his pencil – sometimes a bit harder than necessary. As it turned out, Zim couldn't feel much past his knees.

"Zim…?" the boy's tone was faltering, and he met the alien's gaze doubtfully as he set down his clipboard and moved to his side. His hesitance was very curious, but the alien was more concerned at that moment for his life than for Dib's unusual behavior. If he really thought on it, then the Dib-worm had been acting out of the ordinary for quite some time.

"_What_?" he snapped. "Every second you wait is a second of Zim's life wasting away! Did he not tell you to hurry up?"

"I know," Dib shot back defensively. "I just…" He shifted under Zim's imposing glare, averting his gaze and wasting more precious seconds. "I wanted to try something."

The guilelessness in the human's eyes when he glanced back up to Zim soured his resolve, but the sincerity caught his interest. The genuine look was indicative of Dib's lack of an ulterior motive, giving the pretense of trustworthiness if only for this moment. Whatever the Earth-stink wanted, he might as well have done it in a timely manner.

"_What_?" he repeated, still irritable.

The human drew in a breath, his cheeks aflame in chagrin of which Zim did not understand. He stepped closer, manually un-strapping the alien from the hard table and perceptibly swallowing. "You can stand, right?"

With slight difficulty and much confusion, Zim stood up as an affirmative. Dib took it as such, and he walked so close that he might have knocked right into the Irken if he'd taken another step. At this, the alien was inclined to back up, though his muscles did not promote him to do much past stand. Cursing the human and his doomed experiments, he cleared his throat as demand for explanation, tapped his foot in an urge for haste, and tried to block out his disgust at Dib's proximity.

"Don't move, okay, Zim?" said the human. It was the most he was going to get, and he was wary of Dib's reasoning. The way he was asked, however, was not a command; he liked that. He went out on a limb by agreeing to whatever this was, especially when pressed for time, but the expression Dib held was not something he could describe as hostile.

He did as he was asked, frowning when the human leaned yet closer. What was he trying to do? Zim did not move from his spot even as his rival was just centimeters from his face. If anything, it was perplexing. Dib hesitated as he loomed before him, canting his head to the side, and then edged himself closer still until his lips dragged across Zim's. The human's eyes were shut now as he breathed lightly across the Irken's face, and Zim felt he truly did not understand the meaning of this action. He opened his mouth to ask in certain aggravation what it was that Dib was doing, but instead felt the human's mouth pressed wholly to his own in an unparalleled fervor that was incomprehensible to the alien. The motion worked a strange and liquefied burning to his senses, and a blankness to his mind.

Dib's behavior was beyond him, and he summed it up to another of the species' peculiar habits. He was incapable of breathing as the human forced open his lips, and felt as if his squeedilyspooch was trying to escape by any means necessary. It beat at his insides as Dib's tongue slipped unprecedented over his own, and he felt the texture to be very different just as he felt the wetness start to prickle. The slight spikes of pain went largely ignored as he tried desperately to figure out what it was Dib was doing. Nothing of what he felt had he known existed; it was something that made him want to unravel the sensation and sink his claws into the flesh of the delicate creature before him. It was impossible, but somehow Dib had evoked something in him that had been fighting to be let out for 159 years. Some long-lost, forgotten part of him that had been shoved into some dark corner the very instant he was born, it now flooded through him in an uncompromising exhaltation.

He broke the subtly incinerating connection, breathed jaggedly, heard the human's erratic heartbeat pounding in his own ears. It was tearing out of him, directing his eyes to close on his hazy vision and his gloved hands to travel up across Dib's back. He felt his chest exploding and his every muscle trembling with exertion as he forced himself upon the remarkable being who had induced such an outlandish feeling to coursing all the way up to his antennae. The human voiced something into him, but it was muffled. He returned the favor in sudden deficit, relishing the discreet taste that invaded him as he slid his own slender tongue across Dib's in torrid vengeance.

Zim took a step forward, felt his limit – collapsed. He hit the floor on his knees, raked his claws down the human's arm, bowed his head. Was this death?

"…shit," Dib cursed weakly. He breathed heavily somewhere above Zim, tensing considerably.

Still somewhere in-between awe and death on the floor, Zim felt the prickle in his mouth start to stab a little deeper. It infiltrated him and morphed, given a few moments, into a full-on fire. He blinked, stricken by the challenge.

And then he screamed.

"_Hot_!" he yelled. "What is this savage burning fire that attacks _Zim_?! It _buuurns_! What did you do, filthy human worm-baby?! Your worthless human spit had contaminated Zim! The almighty Zim is dieing! _Dieing_, I tell you! This is _death_!"

He writhed, gritting his teeth at the tormenting anguish that radiated from his mouth, and bit back a string of curses. Dib had planned this, he knew it. This was what that little, invidious stink had been trying to do all along. He'd just been waiting to do this, meticulously plotting it out with that innocent face and that captivating movement of lips. What _was_ that?

Death, it seemed, did not come as intended. Out of his torturous inflammation, he felt a weight attached to his back and felt the inundation of his returning senses. The burning was lessened, and his sight intensified. He could still hear the human's thudding heartbeat, pulsing thunderously as Dib breathed out a sight behind him.

"Sorry about that," Dib said, sounding altogether displeased. By the tone of his voice, he could have been somewhat guilty. Was that regret? Zim turned, witnessing Dib's thoroughly shocked expression as he gazed back. Somewhere along the way, things had stopped making sense.

She was right. It was the very thought that plagued Dib's mind, churning in his stomach and making him feel sick. Gaz had been right. By whatever strange turn of misfortune that had led her to guess right, he could not perceive how she had known. How was it that he hadn't guessed it, himself? Wouldn't there have been signs? What about that crush he'd had on that girl back in elementary skool?

She was _right_.

He supposed that it wasn't all that bad, except for having his world turned on its side. Normally, he would have expected to have known himself a little better. Zim did not make it all that much better, either. Was that even possible? Zim wasn't even _human_, not to mention the fact that he was a belligerent alien set on taking over the planet Earth. It was hardly ethical to _like_ someone bent on destroying the human race.

So then the question was produced: where did his allegiances lie? Surely, he couldn't just give up on Earth because of his own petty emotions. That was selfish, wasn't it? It didn't matter that Zim was probably the closest thing he had to a friend, that Zim was the only one who had ever believed him, or that his own race shunned him…did it? It didn't seem all too heroic to just up and abandon his planet because they didn't understand him or because he – by some strange defect in his personality – had a crush on the little, green guy with big, red eyes that was trying to take over Earth. That was like abolishing all the cheeseburgers just because they didn't understand him, either.

After he'd given Zim his pak, just in time by the looks of it, he'd also given him his disguise and re-attached the device he used to contact Gir. Setting the alien free was something that went against almost every instinct, but he knew that if he kept him then it was inevitable that he would be killed once he showed the network his evidence. Even if he didn't submit the information to the world, he couldn't have kept Zim for forever.

Going to skool was monotonous. He might not have even bothered, had he not been curious as to how the alien was going to act now that they'd actually _kissed_. Something told him that Zim had no idea what a kiss even was, but it was probably better that way. In the least, the Irken had not seemed as hostile after he'd apologized, but he could have attested that to simple awe.

Somehow, Zim had become the _reason_ to get up in the mornings, to make good grades, and to keep up with nagging chores like physical hygiene. It scared him how suddenly dependant he had become: how he tried only to impress the alien, how he looked forward to seeing him, how he found himself almost disinterested in anything else. Hadn't he used to love technology, and inventing things? Now, making these things seemed as commonplace as homework; he only did so if it presented an opportunity with Zim. It was dually terrifying how every moment spent without Zim's presence had grown dull: void and pointless.

That first day back at skool after having released Zim was a hectic one. He was second only to the alien in entering the classroom, glancing across to him as he made his way to his desk on the other side of the room. The Irken did not meet his eye, instead looking down at his hands clasped on his desk before him. That had worried Dib; was it going to be like this all day? Was Zim ignoring him? Feeling that familiar stab of panic, he'd sat in his place in silence.

Mrs. Bitters swept through the door like some sort of demon as soon as the bell rang, perching on her desk with spectacles enlarging her beady gaze from halfway down her nose. She glared menacingly, growling intimidatingly as she took a mental attendance. She started the day with math, at which Zim excelled. They competed through a contest of raising their hands for the answer, and by the time she began the lesson on history – that which Dib knew he could beat Zim in – she had grown wise to their game. For the rest of that day, she ignored their hands entirely.

The day became dull again. He got the creeping feeling that he was being watched, but every time he looked over at Zim, the alien was busy not paying him an ounce of attention. Most of the classmates were curious as to why the alien had been gone so long, and he was preoccupied with giving them gory details of some made-up sickness he called "potato-sack-itis." Some of the symptoms he conjured were so far-fetched that he couldn't help but laugh, but the students seemed to drink it in without much trouble. Mostly, he just wondered if it had always been like this: if Zim had always paid him such little attention.

Sometime between English and science, Dib felt something substantially large crash into the side of his eyeball. He yelped in pain, clutching at his eye and twisting around to find the culprit. Zim broke out into mad laughter, pointing somewhere below him on the floor. Mrs. Bitters swiveled around at the same time he spied the object that had hit him in the eye; she glared at him as he tried to inconspicuously shuffle the wad of paper under his desk and pick it up.

Swooping over to him, she snatched the note before he even had the chance to read it and opened it herself. Her eyes narrowed.

"Bathroom," she read. Slamming the paper down on his desk in a hiss, she stalked back up to the front of the room. "Next time you feel the need to relieve yourself, Dib, don't write it down on paper. Go." She pointed imploringly towards the exit. "Get your large head stuck in the toilet if you must."

He trudged towards the door, wondering how this had happened. Mrs. Bitters then snapped at him for being too slow, and so he sped his way out into the hall. He was just outside the door before he heard Zim ask to go to the bathroom, too. His heart jumped to his throat; something was up.

Ramming his way into the boy's bathroom, Dib crossed the tile floor to the sinks. He stared at his foreign expression in the mirror that was in such desperate need of washing, sighed, and folded his arms across his chest. Zim was taking too long. The dripping faucet before him taunted him with this fact, and he passed the time it took the alien to burst through the door by shutting the water on and off in small bursts.

He jumped when the Irken arrived, scrambling to turn off the water as he turned to face the slam of the door against the wall behind him. Zim stalked through the doorway in recklessness, pulling up his gloves and stopping in the middle of the floor with his hands placed upon his hips. The look on his face was one of demanding; he sneered over to Dib in perfect grace.

"Alright, Dib-worm," he announced loudly. "I know what you're trying to do. Do not worry yourself; you cannot fool the mighty awesomeness that is Zim with your foolish human tactics!" The alien was quite sure of his accusation; he stepped forward and pointed a claw into the center of Dib's chest as he spoke.

"You know…what I'm…_doing_?" the human asked slowly. Obviously, Zim was under the paranoid impression that he was plotting against him. How he'd come to this conclusion was something Dib would love to have known. Unless his subconscious was hiding some magnificent ploy from him, then he had no doubt that Zim was in the wrong.

"_Exactly_!" the Irken proclaimed. "I know _everything_! Don't try to hide it; Zim already knows!"

Dib raised an eyebrow at the alien, concealing his smirk with a hand to push his glasses up his nose. "And _what_, exactly, do you know?"

"_Everything_!" he got in return, followed by a few flecks of spittle. "Zim knows it _all_, Earth-stink! What you did in your filthy human basement – the _kiss_, as your defiling species calls it. It is the mark of greetings or affection among your kind, is it not? Zim knows your futile plan to implement evil with this _kiss_! Zim knows why you act unlike your ordinary tendancies!"

"Okay…anything else?"

The Irken looked taken aback. "No…not really."

Dib gave a small huff and turned away from the alien, rolling his eyes and fumbling with the zipper to his pants. As long as he was in the bathroom, he figured he might as well; who knew when he'd get another chance. With Zim around, he seriously doubted that he'd be spending all that much time in the bathroom, or for that matter, the classroom. The Irken gave him a strange look when he approached the urinals; it was as if he expected Dib to pull some large weapon out of his pants.

"What are you doing?" Zim asked warily, looking like he was preparing himself for battle.

"It's a bathroom, Zim, what do you think I'm doing?"

Apparently, the alien had no concept of respect regarding the relief of his bowels. Before he could actually get to the part about urinating, Zim lunged towards him with the aid of the spidery legs projected from his pak. Dib was pinned to the wall by the shoulders, gaping into the Irken's narrowed eyes as he raised himself to the human's level. It looked as if he might spit in his face, but instead he resorted to growling.

"Geez, Zim! A little space, would you?! I'm going to the bathroom, here!" He felt his pants slip down to his ankles, and regretted the decision to wear his pineapple boxers that morning. Seeing Zim glance down as well, he kicked out with his right foot and landed a hit in the alien's knee. Unfortunately, Zim only flinched.

"Not anymore, Dib-thing." Zim snarled. "You will admit your defeat. You will accept your failure in the face of Zim's victory!"

Looking into the alien's rigid expression, he could tell that it would be a difficult business convincing Zim of _anything_. His antennae were almost flat against the top of his head as he squinted into Dib's face, his wig having fallen from its proper place somewhere in-between standing in the middle of the restroom and pinning Dib to the wall. As always, he had almost no idea where Zim was coming from, let alone how he'd found out what a kiss was.

"No!" he said, feeling his glasses slip. "I'm not planning anything, Zim; I'm just trying to pee! I wasn't trying to achieve vengeance by kissing you, I just did! Figure it out for yourself, Zim! Do you see everyone else going around kissing their friends just to say hello?!"

At this, the alien pulled back slightly to look over him in suspicion. He seemed to be expecting something, but if he was then he did not voice it. After an interval, he loosened his hold on Dib to where the wall was no longer pressing uncomfortably into his spine. With this small improvement, the human was able to shift himself in the Irken's spidery grip and reach up a hand to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

"You're…not planning anything?" asked Zim, remaining inert poised just before the human on the legs extending from his pak. He did not seem half as excited as he might have been, had Dib actually been plotting his vengeance; instead, he appeared to shrink before the human with his pride, and with it his intimidation.

"No," Dib stared blatantly, indicating his desire to be let down through a series of wiggles. The Irken did better to notice that he stood out like a neon sign more than he noticed this impatience, but the human continued. "Are you going to let me down yet?"

"Oh." The alien retracted his spidery legs almost reluctantly, and Dib caught himself on the floor when he fell back down. Somewhat disgusted by the idea of touching the floor but not quite disgusted enough to break down and wash his hands in front of Zim, Dib pulled his pants back to their proper place and shuffled past, having since lost the urge to pee. He stopped when he came to the wig that lay haphazard on the tile by his foot, and turned as he stooped to pick it up.

"Maybe I'll tell you the real reason I kissed you someday, Zim. Maybe. You dropped this."

It was curious matter. The worm-baby had not done a single thing in the way of revealing his existence, yet he had to have had mountains of records since the experiment. Just the fact that the human had said or done nothing within the past few weeks indicative of rising suspicion was in and of itself suspicious. Something about it just didn't feel right, especially after Dib had casually began to sit at his side during lunch. What had started as a few nonchalant glances across the room had turned into a full-on clinging to him in the hallways, and Zim had no idea what to make of it. His business as an Irken invader was of enmity, not of friendly conversations over meatloaf and wheat rolls.

It only led him to one conclusion; he must retrieve Dib's data.

"Gir…! You are to wait here in this tree and notify your master of any immediate changes within this house, do I make myself clear?" He gripped the branch beneath him firmly and waited for the SIR unit's answer, marking the time of night and scanning the Membrane's yard for anything out of place. The Irken could just see Gir's head somewhere below him by the faint glow of his eyes and the dim luster of his metal face.

"Yes_sir_!" saluted the robot, his mild blue countenance fluttering to a momentary red and back. His distractible nature was really something to worry at when it compromised the security of the mission, especially with a task requiring as much concentration as this. Zim sighed in the knowledge that it was hopeless, aware that no matter how many times he could tell Gir to _concentrate_, the SIR unit could never concentrate long enough to hear him.

"Just…tell me if he wakes up, Gir," he spat, turning his attention to Dib's window. It slid upwards easily enough when he tried pushing, having been left open a crack to begin with. He pushed himself through the opening, ducking his head and hopping over the ledge. Taking careful steps, he managed to make his way soundlessly to the bedside of his nemesis, where he froze.

Dib lay hunched over with the side of his face stuck to the side of a mathematics book, fully clothed and his glasses askew. Once it became obvious that the human was asleep, Zim relaxed his taut stance and approached him. As it turned out, the pencil was still in the human's limp hand positioned just above his face, and the flashlight was still on. Zim had a hard time resisting the impulse to take the opportunity to antagonize his sole adversary, but realized with disinclination that this would not be the best use of his time. Instead, he took a moment to turn off the flashlight and remove Dib's glasses, setting them both on a side table and dragging the Earth-stink to lie properly on his back. When he looked at the book with subsequent paper and pencil, it was apparent that Dib had not finished. Easily, he looked over the equations and reveled in his ability to outwit the human, who seemed unable to come up with the answers.

"Hah! I, Zim, am more intelligent than your _inferior_, filthy human intellect! Sleep well, Dib, for it will be war from here on out." He said this with vigor, remembering a little late to lower his voice. By some stroke of luck, the human appeared not to have been disturbed, and so he smirked maliciously at the unsuspecting Dib. He shoved the quilt up to the child's nose, turning on his heel and attempting to swoop from the room as easily as he had entered.

It was not until he tried to leave that he felt it – the slight tug on his shirt that kept him from proceeding. Stopping without a moment's hesitation, he whirled around to face his opponent in all readiness. Nothing met his immediate scanning of the room, until he looked down to where he'd felt the tug on his shirt where the human worm-baby's arm extended to clutch. He stared at it, feeling the irritancy of the lunacy of being held back by a mere sleeping human rising in his throat.

Grinding his teeth together, he tugged back in an endeavor to regain his shirt. When this failed, the alien tried instead to pry the hand off of his precious clothing first by force, and then by trying to gently lift each finger. Neither of these methods worked in his favor, and so Zim took to walking repeatedly against the force. He could not risk using so much strength as to wake the human as much as he could not risk removing his shirt.

Walking without observing where he set his feet was something he soon found to be detrimental; having paid all his attention to escaping Dib's grasp, he gave none to the floor on which he stepped. The first few steps he took proved to be a mistake as they cost him his balance, slipping backwards on an object that shot out from under his heel to roll into the nearest shadow as he fell. Though he twisted in an aim to catch himself, it was in vain. He landed softer than expected, diagonal across a startled Dib.

Picking himself up proved a bad decision as well. Dib, blearily starting upwards, hung onto his back to keep from falling off the bed, and he found himself altogether too close. The human took in a sharp gasp of air, groaned into his shoulder, and looked up with wide eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh, _God_," the human exclaimed in a whisper, looking stricken as if he'd rather back away. The expression he bore was something between horror and amazement; his lips trembled as his nails bit into Zim's back. "Z-Zim…?" His voice shook, sounding as if he'd rather not believe it, and he swallowed.

Unable to do much else, the Irken nodded. He felt for the glasses he'd earlier deposited on the nightstand and pushed them onto the human's face, which was quickly turning a fascinatingly bright pink.

"You're…this has got to be a dream," Dib breathed, astonished. "You aren't really there, are you?" He re-positioned his glasses by their frame, not bothering to reach over to turn on the light, and stared bewildered into the alien's sharp face.

Before either could do more, a large crash sounded from outside, followed by a metal clang. Dib jumped, but Zim only growled. He simply shook his head as Dib clung to him, utterly exhausted by his dysfunctional SIR unit's inability to accurately cooperate.

"Hey…!" announced Gir, scraping his way back up towards the window. "Master…! He's awake! That Dib guy's awake! He woke up! I told you, did I do good?! Oh, do I get tacos?! He's awake! He's awake! Dib's awake! Tacos!"

The human gawked in awe of the squawking robot hovering just outside his window, his jaw slack in his surprise. Gir looped in the air with his excitement, and Zim fisted the quilt at his side. Getting a few glances from the human, he noted that the earthling may have been finally realizing the circumstance. Although he still held an expression of mild shock, he was much more prone to giving the Irken a few looks that seemed to demand an explanation.

"I_ know_ that, _Gir_," he said slowly, making it entirely clear that he was not happy in the least with Gir's behavior. The most the SIR unit could do when he got up to slam shut the window in his metallic face was to ask whether this meant that he got tacos, and Zim tried profusely to ignore him. The robot was proving to be more of a pain than an asset. "No, Dib-worm; as you can see with your filthy, human eyes, Zim stands before you in reality."

The human scrutinized him a moment longer before leaning back into his pillows, crossing his arms in a display of dissatisfaction. The shadows crossing his face giving him an intimidating, inhuman appearance, Dib glared wearily and pressed his lips together in impatience. When he opened his mouth, it was to strictly inquire as to just why Zim was in his bedroom. The original pink tinge had left his cheeks unusually pale in the dim light, and the alien could not help but think he looked oddly haunting.

Wracking his mind for an appropriate response, Zim felt himself in need of a plausibly fabricated pretense in a rather short amount of time. He shifted in his spot, glancing about the space at hand for inspiration. When his eyes alighted upon a lone baseball bat, he snatched it up in certain haste.

"You have no idea, Dib-worm. We get closer to impending death each second we stand here! Quickly – grab a weapon with which to whack and get behind Zim!" With movements impeded by sleep, Dib sluggishly did what he was told. It was only after he had drawn himself up behind Zim that he asked why, dragging behind him his pillow as his weapon of choice. He squinted and yawned across to the Irken, glancing at the clock which read 3:47 in the morning, and watched Zim expectantly.

"The intergalactic purple flesh-eating killer moles, Dib-worm! If Zim does not kill them, then they shall destroy this pathetic planet you call Earth! Your Earth is mind alone to conquer! It belongs to Zim! …and the Irken Empire!" Flaunting the fact in the face of the human, he waved higher the bat in his hands. Dib, on the other hand, only sighed. He looked thoroughly exhausted as he trudged past Zim and collapsed onto his bed, pointing to the window.

"Zim, get out of my house."

Zim knew that if he refused, he'd only get kicked out faster. If he did as Dib demanded, then there was little chance of getting back in again to search for Dib's data. Therefore, his only chance would be to wait until Dib had fallen back to sleep, when he could continue his pursuit unimpeded. To do this, however, he needed a suitable distraction before Dib decided to forcibly oust him.

"You never finished your math homework, Dib-thing." It was a stretch, but it seemed to work. The human blinked at him, and then down to his book where Zim had moved it. His blank stare morphed into annoyance, and he snatched up the book and his pencil in reproach.

"I know that." He hovered over the page in indignation for a little longer than he should have before the Irken came to him, sitting on the edge of his bed in a smug appearance. It was apparent that Dib was getting nowhere, and so Zim nudged his way closer until he was looking down at the work from just over the boy's shoulder.

"Ninety-four," said Zim. Dib intook a sharp breath, jolting around to face him in such startled haste that the alien himself jumped back slightly. The human then glared as the shock wore off, and turned away to hide the strange color creeping up his face in his mathematics book. This reaction took Zim by surprise, not knowing what he had done to deserve the pink tinge to the human's delicate skin. He returned to his former posture leaning over his adversary, looking across at him in slight wonder.

"Don't _do_ that!" Dib breathed, still with his face tucked into his book. His shoulders were hunched as he tried to ignore Zim and work the problem, but Zim would not be ignored.

"The answer is ninety-four, Dib-stink. Give me your earthling writing device, and I'll show you." At first, Dib refused. He persisted to work things his own way, getting the wrong answer each time he tried. With growing frustration and a bitter reluctance, he looked up – his face showing none of the faded red color Zim had noticed earlier – and handed the alien his pencil.

In triumph, the Irken scooted closer, reaching around the human to get the paper, and began the slow process of correcting the flaws in Dib's work. By simply switching a few forgotten signs and adding the correct numbers out in the margins, it did wonders for the human's laborious equations. His formulas couldn't have been more right, but his small mishaps were his downfall. Within minutes he'd moved on to the next problem, moving slow for Dib's benefit, but the human's reaction was less than he'd expected.

Masking a yawn, Dib gave a small "oh" in realization and watched the Irken's progress through glazed eyes. Within the next few seconds, his head had sunk down to Zim's shoulder. Tensing at the contact, the alien shifted under Dib's weight and halted his work as the human sighed into his neck and his hot, moist breath played out across his skin. Rolling his eyes, he picked off the human's glasses and set them aside, closing the book and shoving it across the bed. As soon as the frame left his face, Dib groped blindly after it in sudden loss.

"Hey," he said weakly, "give those back Zim. I need those to see…I'm paying attention." The human said this with his eyes closed, his full weight on the alien at his side as he leaned into him. He contradicted his statement with this so much that Zim felt the urge to laugh at him; Dib consented without resistance as Zim guided him to lie back. When he heard the earthling's sleep-heavy breaths against his neck and he was sure that Dib was asleep, the Irken moved to get up. Making sure this time that his clothing was kept to himself, Zim stood away from Dib with a hand on his hip.

For a moment, he regarded him. Keeping silent vigil on the shadows cast over the human's soft countenance, he stayed a moment to admire his foreign skin, so pale and wondrously tender compared to his own. It would have been so easy to have ripped open his fragile neck and ended it just then and there; for once, it made Zim feel as if Dib was something more than his adversary. He was curiously weak, and yet stood strong despite this. The body sustaining Dib's valuable life was indispensible, and yet terrifyingly breakable. The human could be destroyed and wiped out of existence by almost anything, and his race did not live very long in the least.

It was then that it occurred to Zim; what would happen when Dib died? He couldn't live forever; nothing could. Knowing that the simplest of things would be able to crush Zim's very purpose for fighting made him feel oddly possessive of the worm-baby. Dib was _his_ to victimize as he pleased. Without him, there may very well have been no point in taking over Earth at all other than the Tallests' wishes, and even that was not as strong as this human boy's influence upon him.

The life span of a human was awfully short. What if Dib did not live long enough to see Zim's victory over him? His conquering may as well have been for naught. With this in mind, the alien was determined; protecting him was not enough. The life span of the human needed to be elongated. As if this was not scientifically impossible, Zim knew he would rather burn to death in a hole than give up on finding a solution because it looked hard. With this new challenge, he resolved that he would not stop until he found what he needed.

For the moment, however, he needed to find Dib's data. Remembering himself, he turned from his spot and crept to the doorway. Not really expecting a response, he said, "Sleep tight, Dib-worm." It was meant more as a mockery for what he was about to do, said in such a manner as to invoke the human's wrath had he been listening.

When Zim looked back, he was thoroughly taken aback to find the human with a faint smile. He stopped dead in his tracks, scrutinizing this new facet. It may have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard the water-bag utter a reply of "Goodnight, Zim." This was something altogether unexpected, and yet it was not, as he found, unpleasant. Staying for as long as it took for Dib's smile to fade into sleep, the Irken then turned on his heel to walk silently from the room and into the cold hall.

It was after that night that Dib became aware of the changes between himself and Zim. Each subsequent night, he found there to be a very subtle presence in his room whenever he happened to awaken in the night. Sometimes, it was the shadow silently watching him from the corner; other times, it was something more bold – such as the large pair of eyes watching him from the side. Always, the presence was gone by the time he woke in the morning. By some means, he did not find this to be creepy as it should have been. Rather, it was blush-worthy.

Never was this occurrence mentioned during the daytime hours. If Zim knew that Dib had noticed, then he did not say anything for it. The Irken no longer tried to ignore him during class, although he was less outspoken with the lack of maniacal plot. Their peers neither commented nor cared about their sudden camaraderie, though they picked on Dib less frequently when the alien was around – possibly because of the torturous things they were made to endure afterwards by the hands of Zim.

The human was also witness to the migration of his personal belongings; obviously, the Irken was doing more than watching him each night. Though he came precariously close at times, his search for Dib's data was always futile. Dib prided himself with the fact that Zim may never find it at all.

Around a week after the alien's first visit, he could tell that Zim was getting frustrated. His things were being thrown about with such abandon that he wondered if Zim even cared that he knew. By this time, he would have been a fool if he did not. This frustration was why it was such a surprise when the Irken goose-stepped into school one morning with a grin plastered to his face, looking quite satisfied with himself over something that Dib could not fathom. These actions kicked his old intuitions into gear; Zim was definitely up to something.

"What do you want before I throw this away, Dib-stink?" The alien asked this as he was poised over his tray in the lunchroom. He had taken to giving Dib what was salvageable from his tray, considering all food from Earth except waffles was inedible to him. Today, it was a casserole with unidentifiable bits of meat, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Somehow, Zim had known to get the skim milk this time, and so he picked this off along with the potatoes. When the alien got up to dump his trash away, he gave a smug grin.

If he had thought that this was weird, then Zim's next comment of "Vitamin D gives you bones of steel, Dib-thing. The liquid excreted from the nipples of filthy, mooing cows is good for you." was worse. By and large, it gave a new meaning to his thoughts on becoming a vegetarian.

As much as he had searched for that obnoxious human's experimental data, he had found nothing of the sort. Though he had also taken to watching Dib in the peculiar habit of sleep that he himself could not participate in, his pursuit was overall an unsuccessful expedition. This had lead him to the conclusion that he needed a more efficient way of getting to the information, though he ruled out his earlier method of shrinking to nano-size and deleting the human's recollection. Mostly, it was because he found this to be too much trouble after what had happened last time, but there were also the flaws such as Zim not retrieving the data himself and what happened if Dib accidentally ran across it. Because of this, the Irken had developed a keen idea of what he might do instead, and this involved the drug he'd so carefully placed into the milk he knew Dib would take.

It would take approximately one minute for the truth serum to take effect, and around ten for it to wear off. Therefore, he had to work quickly. Within this small frame of time, there was almost no room for error.

"So, Dib-worm, how do you feel?" He asked this boldly, as was expected of his position. The human did not seem entirely oblivious to the fact that there had been something in his milk; he looked like he was ready to be sick.

"A little nauseous. I'm thinking about scanning the composition of that milk with my computer. Why?" He turned a skeptical eye to Zim, the expression he bore portraying slight confusion. This was the alien's cue to scoff freely at this reaction, laughing dramatically at his success. The Dib-thing had not known what had hit him, but the drug was obviously in effect. At his cackling, Dib narrowed his eyes.

"Zim…? What did I just drink?" Now, his tone was threatening. Though the Irken was not intimidated in the least by this display, he had to admit that Dib had perfected his glare. With his arms crossed and the light reflected off of his glasses illuminating his dark glower, the human could have been capable of scaring off even Mrs. Bitters – just not such a higher being as Zim.

With pride, the alien announced exactly what it was that ailed his adversary, along with various other things that could be amounted to Dib's situation being hopeless. Without doubt, he was the better competitor – and he proclaimed this as well. "Well, what do you think, Earth-stink?"

"What do I think…?" the human repeated blankly. Oddly, he smirked. "I think this is a stupid idea. This was your plan…? Seriously…? _This_ is how you plan to figure out where my data is?! This is pathetic! I would expect something better coming from you, Zim!"

Outraged, the Irken lunged himself at Dib. He got hold of his collar and dragged him back, ramming him against the wall of the cafeteria. Rage prickled white at the edges of his vision and pounded in his mind; he found it hard to swallow or even speak. The human struggled, his glasses askew and slipping downwards, but Zim held him steadfast against the cement at his back. He tightened his grip on the boy's shirt and hoisted him higher, jolting himself closer and feeling some sense of revenge when the human flinched. Practically ripping a growl out of his throat, he hissed to Dib words laced with a conviction of such hatred that he surprised even himself; never in his life had he been so angry. For such a small insult, there was no justification for the emotion it had induced within him.

"All of your race is worthless, you filthy, human worm-baby. You especially are very weak; I could crush your puny body in a heartbeat. Do not talk to Zim of 'pathetic!' It is not I who is up against this wall, about to reveal his secrets to Zim! Very soon, all of you will be nothing more than dirty slaves to the Irken Empire!" He spat at the human, watching the color drain from his delicate complexion, and felt his short, quick breaths across his face. Dib said nothing in retaliation; the alien couldn't quite match his countenance to anything recognizable. When a few moments had gone by and his anger receded, he felt the shock move in.

He had tried to kill Dib plenty of times before, but never had he felt something so hostile that he wanted nothing more than to rip off the human's head and watch him bleed. The menace that had filled him to the core had burned his common sense to shreds and was something that complicated things quite a bit. Such emotion was uncommon among his race; it was simply unfounded, and forbidden by the pak that each Irken bore. Zim had already known that his pak was defective; it was the cause of his trouble in becoming an invader. It was also the reason he tried twice as hard as the rest, and an outburst like this had never happened at all in the past. The only thing that came close was what he had felt that night Dib had decided to kiss him: that inexplicable emotion that had pooled in him and taken over his senses. Then, however, he had not been wearing his pak at all – perhaps that was the key.

Before then, Zim had not been prone to such sickeningly sentimental weakness as he was now. As something had shifted in him, he could only sum it up to Dib. The connection between them had only grown; beforehand, he certainly would not have allowed these pointless conversations or late-night visits. Of course, he would have been more inclined to hunt Dib down and murder him than to protect him. As it was, he couldn't understand what had changed, or why it had. Was he defective, or had Dib truly awakened something that couldn't be contained by the regulations of his pak?

Looking across at the human's unreadable expression, it unnerved him. Moving back a bit, he tried to guess at what he had done. "Are you nervous, Dib-thing?"

"…a little."

His tone was as blank as his face. It may have been the truth, but it gave away nothing. Perhaps it was not fear, but anger. It would make sense for the human to be angry, and given his reaction, he may have been speechless for it. This did not bode well for their daily lunch chat; Zim then harbored a new thought on the matter.

"Do you hate Zim?" he asked. This time, the human's face morphed into a frown. His brows came together, and he looked up at the alien like he didn't believe him.

"No," was the simple answer. It led Zim to ask another question, and he did so with the greatest hesitation. Slowly realizing the ache in his arm, he lowered Dib gently to his feet. Though he set him down, he still kept his position blocking the human's movement, and this was a stance that was terribly close to Dib's still body. It was close enough to pick up on his human heartbeat, thudding fast and wet.

"What does the Dib-worm think of Zim, then?"

At this, the human's expression changed to more of a gape. His eyes widened behind the frame of his glasses, which he did not bother to straighten, and the Irken could see the bob of his throat when he swallowed. If Dib had not been nervous before, then he certainly was now, and this proved to bewilder the Irken even more. His understanding of human signals was limited, and in this he could find no logical reason for his adversary to be so anxious.

Just when he was about to ask the question again to assure that Dib might answer, he opened his mouth to mumble a response that Zim barely caught: "I think I think more of you than I do of myself…"

Though it was murmured quietly under the hum of cafeteria noise, it rung clearly in Zim's mind. He felt his limbs locked into place as he stared across at the human that now averted his gaze, and only wondered at how this might have happened.

"Why…?" It was the only thing he could think of to say, and it seemed to put Dib even more on edge. He shuffled against the wall, fretted with his coat pocket, and pushed up his glasses with increasing uneasiness.

When at last the human made his response, it was so low under his breath that even Zim had trouble distinguishing it from the noise surrounding them. Dib's apprehension was stirred further when he asked him to repeat what he had said, and the human looked ready to run for his turmoil if he would have gotten anywhere. Conceivably because he was trapped between Zim and the wall, he did not make such a move, and instead voiced only a little louder the same words he had spoken before. This time, however, he looked up to meet the alien's gaze, and stood his ground.

"Dammit, Zim – because I love you!"

Though the Irken had not bothered with asking the whereabouts of his data, it would have been pointless to have done so. Even if Dib had told Zim where it was, there was nothing stopping him from going home and changing its location. At present, the alien was more preoccupied with avoiding him. Although he was partially aware that he himself had started it, the fact remained that they had not spoken to each other in over a week. Potentially, it had become just another one of their little competitions to see who could outlast the other. Dib had to admit, it was starting to smart.

At times, he was without a doubt positive that avoiding Zim was the absolute best thing given the circumstance, because there was no way that Zim was not thoroughly disgusted by what he'd said in the lunchroom. Other times, on the contrary, he wasn't so sure. It all seemed so petty and stupid, as if it were only very silly to led something like this get in the way of that very special connection that they shared. So far, the Irken had not tried to approach him about it, and the presence in his room during the night was gone. Therefore, he did not try to approach the alien either, for fear of what he might say.

This went on for quite some time, and some of the kids were starting to get brave enough to begin picking on him again. This time, he was forced to endure the small threats in silence and hope that whoever it was would find motive to go away. Sometimes, Zim was even within distance to witness these happenings, although he never gave notice to them. It was these moments that Dib had to be especially careful; he reserved himself to his tormentors and made sure not to pick fights, trying to catch as little attention as possible lest Zim be alerted to it.

"Hey, you!" boomed the low, deep profile voice from behind him. He kept walking, telling himself that "you" could have been referring to anyone. Not to mention that voice was directed rather closely at the back of his head, but it just might have been some sort of coincidence. "…with the big head! Get over here!"

Dib stopped – spun around. He found himself face-to-face with the hulking figure of the disappearance of yet another valued item. Bracing himself for the large wind of bad breath into his face and the demand for his homework, or perhaps his lunch money, he looked up into the beady eyes of the thug that challenged him. It was not fear that he felt – not anymore. It was hopelessness, possibly because of the inevitability. He could not fight this kid's strength, and he could not outrun him, contrary to prior belief. The last time he'd tried to run, he'd found himself hanging from his shoelaces on the nearest tree.

Aside from imploring for him to give up some article, the figure that towered over him made some sort of signal to his equally intimidating lackeys, who immediately surrounded him. They each sported a similar fashion of ugly grin as they hoisted him up into the air by his arms and legs, and Dib gave the area a quick scan for the signature flash of green and pink color in the hopes that Zim was not watching. When he found nothing, he let them lift his ankles and push on his shoulders until he hung upside-down with relief. Though the slight ache in his ankles and the blood rushing to his head was not very comfortable, he did his best to relax as they swayed him back and forth in a violent manner. Naturally, his glasses hit the pavement first, followed by the only thing he kept in his pockets – two red dice. They each hit the cement with clinking bounces, and he felt his jacket slipping from his shoulders as his shirt slid down lower from his stomach.

His bully gave him a quick knee in the face, to which he bit his tongue and tasted blood. "That's all you got in your pockets, you little punk? You better start making some cash, or else…" The threat was implied by the flip and click he heard by his ear; one of the lackeys was holding up his bookbag with a lighter in his hand, the flame dangerously close to burning everything inside.

"Wait – stop!" The words rushed out of his mouth before he even knew he'd said them, and he felt the muscles in his legs working to struggle against the grip on his ankles that held him captive. Much to his dismay, the death-grip only grew tighter, and it was obvious that he was not going to get anywhere. Regardless, he needed to try; his life was in that book bag. It contained all his books he'd have to pay for, all his homework and projects, the handheld radar he'd custom ordered, and so many memories. "Don't do that! I don't have any money – you took it all yesterday! I promise!"

His captor gave a humorless laugh and kicked him in the side. The blow itself was merciless; he could feel the bruise that was going to show up later, and groaned as the wind was knocked out of him. Again, he tried to explain the fact that he did not have any money at the moment, but all he received for his efforts was a foot jammed into his ear. It left him seeing spots with his vision a little black around the edges, and the blood pounded a throbbing rhythm into his jarred brain. Through his momentary blindness, he could see the flame from the lighter inch closer to his precious things, and rasped out another moan as he was given a hit to the stomach.

Before he could gather the resolve to speak again, another voice pierced the commotion that was neither his nor his bullies'. "Put the sniveling human-creature down," it commanded, and Dib felt the hands holding his ankles release him. He fell more or less on his head, and felt a disappointing crunch when he rolled over enough to see familiar, pointed, black boots. "Drop the book-sack as well, you worthless filth-bag." A heavy thud marked the obedience to these words, and Dib knew that his harassers were all standing like statues around him. "Now give me the shiny flame-producing device." There was a light whistle and a small, metallic flash just over his head before he heard the receiving smack into Zim's gloved hand. "Now turn around, and get out of Zim's sight." Running footsteps crashed around Dib's head, and he waited until they had dispersed to try and stand.

As he had expected, his glasses were in shambles – he wasn't sure that even tape could do the job that they needed. His book bag was altogether unharmed except for a few patches of dust where it had been dropped, and this he made quite sure of. As for himself: except for the minor aches throughout his body and the spinning of his head, he would consider himself relatively unscathed for such an ordeal.

Upon looking up, he was thoroughly taken aback to find Zim walking away from him. Hurriedly, and disregarding his things, he moved to catch up to the Irken and trailed at his elbow as he marched along without sending Dib a second glance.

"Wait!" he called, still straining to keep pace with the alien. "Zim…!"

Of course, Zim did not wait. He kept walking, one step at a time, away from Dib. At long last, Dib gave up and stopped following. He stood in the recesses of Zim's wake, some ways away from his book bag and glasses, watching the Irken's back until he faded into the crowd and was lost.

"Thanks," he mumbled, knowing it fell on deaf ears. Zim was yards away by now, and he didn't look like he wanted to talk all that much. Half blind for the loss of his glasses, Dib trudged his way back to the scene of the crime and gently picked them up in pieces along with his dice, shouldering his book bag and walking towards the skool.

With as much care as he could muster, as if it might ruin everything just to go a little faster, he slid up the window until there was just enough space to push himself through. When his feet hit level ground, he first made sure that there were no obstacles in his way before proceeding across Dib's floor. As much clutter as he found, he didn't want a repeat of the time he'd slipped up – especially not now. Uncertain terms as of late required him to execute this motion with as much cautious procedure as physically possible, in order to attain the utmost of surprise. Mostly, he was relying on the shock in the element of surprise to carry him through what might have been a flood of heated accusations otherwise.

Since then, however, he had come to a rather important conclusion. This having taken moments at a time of meditation with his pak removed – so as to ensure it was not some sort of deciding factor – he had come to terms with the fact that he liked Dib a little more than he was willing to admit, and a little more than his pak would have permitted. Although there was no contesting that the feeling was stronger without the pak, he discovered that it still carried through when it was securely attached to his back. This proved more than anything that what had happened in the lunchroom was purely Dib – that the human was his emotional trigger.

Approaching the bed at left of center with unearthly deliberation, Zim spotted his target sleeping turned on his side in the middle of his twisted sheets. It almost felt no different than what his usual visits had been, stopping at the edge of the mattress to take in Dib's expression and his deep, even breathing. After this moment of slight hesitation, he gathered himself to actually do what he'd intended, instead of getting caught up in just standing there like a dumb rock. Dragging himself up next to the human and positioning himself on an elbow, he drew in a large breath of Earth's polluted atmosphere before extending a hand to put to Dib's shoulder, gently shaking him into cognizance.

"Zim…?" It was the first thing the boy said after cracking open his eyes, and perhaps all he _could_ say.

"Yes." Drawing himself even closer, he looked down to the tired form of his human adversary and felt the need – quite suddenly – to make him understand. He _had_ to understand – it was absolutely imperative. Though it may have been hard for Dib to grasp exactly what Zim felt, the Irken knew that this human boy was the only being in the universe who had ever worked to understand him even a little bit, and he was especially the only one who had ever succeeded. This was why it was completely necessary for Dib to understand _then_ – because he was the only one who could.

Just that moment, the alien felt he might just burst if Dib didn't know right _then_ how much that Zim really did want to keep him around, how much avoiding him had pained him, and how much he felt he was ready to say – officially – that he loved him back. Perhaps now quite in the same way – for certain, Irkens had always been different from earthlings – but given time, the alien knew that he could learn. And time was something they would have more of, if Dib would only agree to let Zim give him the gift of life and create for him a pak especially for him.

In an effort to convey all this to the human staring dumbfounded up at him from his side, Zim lowered himself to Dib's level and closed in on him, ensnaring his lips in sweet, slow retribution. Having been barely awake, this gesture evoked some presence of mind from the human who mouthed some question into him when they parted, but Zim did not take much notice of this. He came at Dib anew, a little harsher this time in order to instill in him that this was, in fact, very real. For certain, he was not going to let this opportunity escape. If Dib loved him like he'd said, then it was not to be taken lightly. They could make this work.

No matter what the Tallest would say to his having such feelings for a being so insignificant – much less having such feelings at all. In the mind of Zim, Dib was anything _but_ insignificant; he was an entire universe. Now that Zim recognized this, he was determined.

With an arm about his only connection to the world around him and a quiet view into the stars from the window in the corner, Zim made a silent vow: so long as there was cause, let Earth and Irk coexist in the same balance as they. He had come to Earth with a mind and a mission, but on it found a purpose and a home. These were things he was not likely to forget, having changed him from a bad example of his own race to the best ambassador there was likely to be had. With Dib's consent, the stars were the limit.

So much for proving that aliens exist. He supposed that it truly didn't matter, though – so long as he himself knew, then that was good enough for him. After all, he sorely doubted the world would consider him anything short of a deranged lunatic if he tried to explain how he'd helped to save Earth form apocalyptic invasion, along with the same Irken invader who had been trying to destroy it for over a year. With this in mind, Dib had gladly set fire to every bit of his data on Zim.

Zim's Tallest hadn't been too fond of him either after he'd explained to them the situation; they seemed to take it that he was a bumbling idiot from the start. With a little assistance from Dib, however, the Irken rulers had given in the the admission that they could perhaps learn something from a planet that was so lush with life, and so they agreed to spare the planet form the Empire's armada at the condition of sending a team of research scientists. This was, of course, no cost to either Dib or Zim. Dib was with the creeping suspicion that the two monarch figures hadn't wanted to conquer the planet even to begin with, but rather to get rid of Zim. Out of prudence he did not share this theory with his partner, but it still stuck out in his mind much like the flaw in using a system of hierarchy based off of height. For beings that were supposed to be so highly intelligent, it was oddly rudimentary.

His own family seemed not to mind as much; Gaz did not care one way or the other, mostly because she never had. Professor Membrane, on the other hand, was different. He had told his father that it was a special science academy, and so had stayed up late into the night with Zim to make up intelligent-sounding bologna to put into a fake-sealed letter and mail to his dad. This kept his father happy while he was out exploring the universe, and so it appeared that Earth and Irk had a chance at last.

Zim said it was only a matter of time before those scientists excavated something useful and wanted it for themselves to start the old invasion back up, but Dib wouldn't hear of it. Together, they staked out their favorite spot on the moon Titan and camped there, and it was there that they spent most of their time alone together. In turn, Zim gave him the grand tour of Irk, and attempted to teach him to operate the voot cruiser. This, however, was not the smartest idea.

Having never even driven a vehicle on Earth, Dib found a way to crash the cruiser right into a meteor field. He was sure he might have caused some sort of cataclysmic event somewhere in the universe by doing so, but until he heard about it he wasn't going to worry. As far as he was concerned, a little hint of peace with Zim without taxes or Mrs. Bitters in life was living grand.


End file.
